Years of Longing
by Amles80
Summary: Noah and Angela have never been together. Yet they've always been connected, almost from the first time they met. Will they ever share more than a few secret kisses? Both Noah's and Angela's pov. Rating K to M, hints of femslash in M-rated chapter.
1. Chapter 1: Becoming a Company Man

**Title****:** Years of Longing, Chapter 1: Becoming a Company Man**  
Rating****:** **T  
Characters****/Pairing:** Noah Bennet/Angela Petrelli**  
Warnings****:** Some sexual content**  
Summary****:** This starts the moment after the beginning of ep 20 S 3, when Noah Bennet met Angela Petrelli in a car; he warns her about the situation, she gives him his umbrella. As Noah walks away, he becomes absorbed in memories of his youth, and he thinks about what Angela has meant to him during all these years…**  
Word****s:** 2393**  
Author's note:** This is the first piece of fanfic I ever wrote (posted to Live Journal) and became part of a longer Angela/Noah series titled "Years of Longing"

***

Noah folds up Angela's umbrella as he walks through the crowded street. He knows that he has to focus on the present, but his thoughts are still with her. She said that she was going to leave, but will she be able to do it fast enough? If not, he don't know how much more he can do for her. Noah don't doubt that she understands the seriousness of the situation, but maybe she thinks too much of her own powers. He knows that all the Petrellis has one thing in common: the refusal to accept that some things are sometimes beyond control. He had given her a warning. She had given him his umbrella.

_Don't say I never did anything for you._

Noah frowns. What had Angela done for him – everything? Or nothing?

He remembers when he first met the Petrellis, years ago. Then he had thought that Arthur was the important one. Oh, sure he was – Arthur Petrelli, Lindemann, Kaito Nakamura… They had put their trust in him when he was young, and he had dedicated himself to the task, done everything, without questioning.

But it was always Angela.

She was really the one true soul behind it all.

This was not something someone ever told him. No, he figured it out all by himself, just by looking at her. A woman with a devoted husband and two young sons; Nathan about his own age, Peter still a boy. But that was not all, no, she was a woman of power and influence. Elegantly dressed in black, her dark hair strictly dressed, in the background until she had something important to say. With her eyes sternly fixed on him, on her boys, on everyone. Nothing escaped her dark eyes, just as hardly nothing escaped her dreams.

It is easy to see where Nathan got his stubbornness and his ambition from, Noah thinks – the problem with Nathan is that he is too eager to bite off more than he can chew.

Angela on the other hand, is cautious.

And she tested him one night. Perhaps no one else would have guessed it was a test, but Noah knew. He remembers the night when it happened.

Walking through the rain, ready to go on pretending that he is on Danko's team, Noah falls back in time through his memories to where it all really begun as far as he is concerned.

There had been a party. It was some kind of special occasion, he has forgotten the details, he only remembers that Angela looked stunning as always. He found it hard to take his eyes off her, despite his fear that Arthur would notice.

Then Angela said that she wanted to leave, and as Arthur couldn't go, she asked Noah to give her a ride home.

And of course he did. In his car, he appreciated the fact that Angela Petrelli was not much for small talk. Noah was beginning to feel slightly nervous, and was afraid that he was going to stutter if she talked to him. He was angry with himself because of that, because he was usually skilled in keeping himself together, hiding his true feelings somewhere behind his glasses.

It was just the way she looked at him, silently. It was as if her eyes hit some nerve in him, and saw right through him.

Could she do that?

When they arrived to the Petrelli home, she invited him in for a nightcap, and he saw no reason to refuse. He followed her inside, and she told him that her sons were not home.

It was odd. He had rarely seen Angela drink at all, but now she poured them both a glass of red wine. As she was leaning against the doorpost, with him seated on a not very comfortable chair a few steps away, he felt a bizarre urge to quote a line from a movie, a movie that described a similar scene.

Oh no, he would rather bite his tongue off than say it.

"Mrs Petrelli," he said, "are you try…"

"Oh Noah," she chopped off his words, "there's no need to be so formal, is there? Just call me Angela. You are a Company man now. Come, let's sit down."

She went before him and sat down in the soft and luxurious couch in the huge living room. Noah sat down beside her, awkwardly. He seemed to have lost all ability to relax. It was just that he felt that he was too big, his legs were too long; the woman beside him was so small. Noah was confused; he thought he had outgrown that feeling long ago; the feeling that his arms and his legs were too long…

Now, focus, he said to himself. Don't be silly. Obviously, she wants to tell me something. She has got something important to say, otherwise she wouldn't have brought me here, that's all.

"Noah", Angela said with her husky voice; a voice that sent chills down his spine, "do you like the wine?"

"Yes," he answered quickly, "yes, it is excellent. Exquisite. It is… a very fine wine…"

Angela laughed and took a sip of her glass.

Noah found it best to stop talking, and drank some too. Then he said:

"Can Arthur read my mind? I mean, does he know what I'm thinking?"

"Not exactly, no, he doesn't…"

Angela smiled gently at him; God, she was so beautiful! When she parted her slender lips like that, to smile, and the perfect line from her neck down to her shoulders…

"Good", Noah said. "Well, then, can you do that?"

She shook her head, said that that was not what she did.

"Now, about our business, Noah… I think you know it by now. You know what you need to know, for the time being, and you will be very useful, I'm sure. There is really not much more I can tell you. Actually, you should leave now."

Noah flinched and stared at her. Why? Had he done something wrong? Had he misread the situation – well, he wasn't sure what he had been reading into the situation exactly.

"Angela", he said faintly, "I'm so sorry if I… if, that is… I…"

"I said that you _should_ leave", she said and fixed him with her deep, dark eyes, "not that you _must_. Not unless you really want to."

He shook his head, bewildered, almost frightened – and excited.

Angela put down her glass on the table in front of the couch, and came closer to him, as she whispered:

"You are such a handsome young man… You are not afraid of me, are you? Do I make you nervous, Noah?"

"No", he lied, looking her in the eyes, as he took one more sip of the wine.

"Thirsty, maybe…", she said.

Noah swallowed, and let her take the glass from his hand – which was now trembling – without answering.

He realized that he had everything to loose by doing what he was about to be doing, but the way he saw it at that moment, he had more to gain. He grabbed Angela's shoulders, gently, and she allowed him to pull her closer, and his voice was thick as he said:

"You are so beautiful. Angela, you are too good to be with him, you – "

"Hush", she interrupted, "don't say that. Noah, this might be a mistake. On the other hand, my actions are always based on deliberate decisions. So this… this can't be a mistake."

And then she kissed him.

Angela Petrelli's lips were pressed against his, and she took his head between her hands as the kiss grew deeper. It was the most perfect kiss he had ever had, as if she was melting into him, and yet she was undoubtedly separated from him; a soft and mysterious other body; so close to him and yet so unattainable. She would never belong entirely to him; he could never stop wanting her.

They kissed, and it was beyond anything he had ever dared to dream of. It was unbelievable that it was happening, that she wanted him. This powerful, elusive woman, Angela, the wife of Arthur Petrelli and mother of a son almost his age – to dream of such a thing would have been almost a sacrilege, but now it was happening, and Noah's body ached to get more of her. His blood rushed through him, and he lost consciousness of anything but the scent of her, and the sensations that flooded through him as she slowly started to unbutton his skirt.

Angela pressed her body against his. His hands were around her thin waist and moved upwards, stroke eagerly the black cloth that concealed her skin, and when his fingers reached her breasts, the phone rang.

Almost immediately, Angela twisted and wrenched loose.

Breathlessly, Noah watched her as she walked over to the phone; he couldn't hold her, she left him there, and her voice seemed to be calm as she answered and stopped the terrible ringing noise.

Noah was too overwhelmed to understand much of what the conversation was about, but it was over soon.

When Angela turned around and faced him, Noah came back to reality.

"That was Peter's nanny", Angela explained. "Unfortunately, there has been an incident… they are coming back. Noah, this time, I'm afraid that you really must leave."

"Yes", he said, "of course. I understand."

She is Mrs Petrelli, he reminded himself; a wife, a mother. This has only been a dream – that is surely what she is going to tell me.

"Perhaps this was a mistake after all."

"No, don't say that."

Noah got up from the couch, his nervousness was gone as if he had never felt it, and he knew that he was never going to be afraid of her again, not as before.

"Let's just say", he begged, "that it was a dream."

Angela smiled and agreed that it had been a dream. A dream, and nothing more.

And Angela Petrelli was serious. To her, dreams were as important as the time awake, Noah knew that, but this particular dream was something she never alluded to. Never once did she hint at it during all the years that followed, and neither did he.

But for a long time, he did dream of her. He dreamed that one day they were going to finish what they had started, and he waited for her to give him some kind of sign. But she never did.

And then he met Sandra.

Sandra was such a sweet and innocent young girl. Uncomplicated and easy to be with. Not my type, was his thought when he first met her, but then it started to work in her favour – the fact that she was as far away from resembling Angela Petrelli that any woman could be. She hadn't had and wouldn't ever have anything to do with the Company. At first, he was unsure if he was going to handle two so separated lives, but at the same time, the thought was appealing to him.

When he started thinking about marrying her, he talked to Angela, and she said:

"That is excellent, Noah – in fact, marrying this girl is the best thing you could do."

"Why, what do you mean?"

"You are a Company man", she said, "you are devoted to the Company, and that is as it should be. But having a family, Noah, is what keeps us safe. Safe from getting lost in the cause, in the quest. There will come days when the weight feels too heavy on your shoulders, days when the purpose of it all seems unclear, far away. Then it is your family that will help you; you will know that your job is to make the world a better place for them."

Noah gulped, her words made him hot and cold at the same time, trembling. He knew that voice of hers; it wasn't the voice of 'you should' or 'if you want to, you could…'

No, it was the voice of 'you must'.

"Did you dream it?"

Angela Petrelli nodded her head.

"I know that when the time comes, you will do what ever it takes to protect your family. Even when it means that you have to distance yourself from them, even hurt them sometimes. Everything to keep them safe. That is what we all do, ultimately."

"But… but I don't even have a family yet."

"No, but you will have."

That settled it. From there, it was he and Sandra. And then there was Claire. The Company gave him Claire, and not long after, Lyle was born. And not until then did he realize what Angela had been talking about, and why she had gotten up from that couch to answer the phone. Maybe she hadn't known that it was the nanny, but the mere thought that it could be was enough.

So Noah Bennet was from that day on a family man, as well as a Company man. He thought that Angela Petrelli was the only one who understood how his two separate identities were indissolubly intertwined.

And even now, many years later, when he really has been forced to the extreme in order to protect his loved ones, does he share that special, secret connection with Angela Petrelli. Admittedly, when she had given him that stupid watch, he would have wanted to throw it right back at her. He thought she had lost it, that he had lost her. At least, he had given the damn thing back later.

And now, she has given him his umbrella.

It is nothing, of course. And yet Noah chooses to take it as a sign that just like he, she has not forgotten. She wanted to seduce him once, and by doing that, she created an unbreakable bond. Ever since that day he has trusted her, even when she told him to marry another woman, and everything he ever did was for her, just as much as for Claire.

Noah's face is dry but his feet are cold and wet.

The rain brings him back from the memories, and he remembers that Danko is waiting for him, waiting to destroy everything and everyone he has ever fought for.

But just you wait, Noah Bennet thinks, just you wait. You don't know whom you're up against.


	2. Chapter 2: Qu'elle est belle!

**Chapter 2 : Qu'elle est belle**

**Rating :** T**  
Characters :** Angela Petrelli (Noah, Sandra, Arthur)**  
Summary :** When young Noah Bennet invites the Petrellis to his wedding, it is because he has shared some unforgettable moments with Angela a couple of years earlier. Angela says that she won't go, but she has a hard time getting Noah out of her head.**  
Prompt :** # 2: Candles, Mystic table at 10iloveyou**  
Warnings:** discussions of adultery, implied masturbation**  
Word count:** 2 614**  
Notes:** This is from Angela's point of view, which is why the story differs a little from chapter one. And regarding Heroes time line, it's a prequel.  
Dedicated to my Live Journal friends Lynchgrrl88 and Firstlady1492 for encouraging my Angela/Noah ideas :)  
Inspired by the Mireille Mathieu song "Qu'elle est belle" ["How beautiful she is!"].

***

The woman was watching the wedding ceremony from the half-shadows in the corner, back toward the entrance of the small church where the light didn't reach her. She wasn't exactly hiding, but she wasn't particularly interested in being seen, either.

And no one looked at her. Their interest was focused on what happened in front of the altar; the minister and the man and woman who were just a few moments from becoming husband and wife. The candles on the altar were not necessary to light up the church, because daylight were coming in from the uncolored windows on the side walls and the colored window – it was a picture of Jesus and a little lamb – but the candles made the bride's dress sparkle. It was decorated with lace and small pearls.

The congregation wasn't big that day. The bride had a bride's maid. In the front rows were some people who were probably related to the bride. Relatives, childhood friends. Did the groom have any relatives? Old parents, distant cousins. A couple of friends; the woman watching from a small distance recognized four of them. They worked for the same company. Then, the woman figured, the rest of the people watching were probably locals; people who couldn't resist a wedding in their neighbourhood. Then there were a few empty rows; the woman was seated alone.

"I, Noah Bennet, take thee, Sandra Butler…"

If someone had looked at the woman, they would have seen her show a hint of a smile, as if it was the closing of one of her own schemes she was watching.

***

Angela Petrelli frowned at the sight of the cream colored envelope on top of the small pile of the day's mail. She instantly knew what it was. She held it unopened in her hand for a short while, before she put the silver letter opener to one of its corners, and swiftly cut through the thick paper with the sharp edge.

She read the letter and shook her head as if to say: you're a fool!

Arthur came up behind her, and put his hands on her hips as he leaned closer to read over her shoulder.

"Ah, that's right", he said, "Bennet is getting married. He doesn't expect us to come, does he? He must have invited us out of some kind of courtesy…"

"I suppose so, yes," Angela calmly replied, and tried not to shy away from her husband's touch.

Arthur moved his hands from her hips, but only to wrap his arms around her waist hand hug her, and he continued,

"On the other hand, you could go if you want to… disguised as his godmother's second cousin, or something…"

"Don't be ridiculous", Angela replied, and now she shook him off. "Besides, I couldn't go even if I wanted to. I promised Peter to take him to the zoo… and I hate the Texas climate."

"You do? I had no idea."

"Can't stand it. You would have known if you had ever bothered to ask."

Her voice got colder with every word of that short phrase. Now it was Arthur Petrelli's turn to frown.

"Well, I'm sorry that I've never taken enough interest in your climate preferences. No need to bite my head off!"

"Don't be so sensitive, Arthur."

They looked at each other for a moment, and then turned their separate ways. The place was surely big enough to make sure they didn't have to look at each other before dinner.

Angela called Noah Bennet the next day, asked him if he had really expected to see her and her husband at his wedding.

"Not really", Noah said, his voice apologetic in her ear.

"So why did you send me the invitation?"

"I don't know. I just thought… that maybe you could come anyway…"

"Noah", Angela said with the same cold patience she would use when she was scolding Nathan, "not only would it seem strange if a Petrelli attended the wedding of a simple Primatech employee, it is also highly inappropriate to invite the woman you've more or less committed adultery with to your own wedding."

Noah was silent at the other end of the phone, then he replied:

"But what we've done can hardly be thought of as adultery, considering… and I'm sure that Arthur's had his own share of adventu - "

"Are you suggesting that Arthur is in the habit of cheating on me? Why on Earth would he want to do that? And that's beside the point anyway. I'm talking about Sandra. You're marrying a girl who's expecting you to do the right thing, to treat her right."

"I know", the young man answered, "and I will treat her right. I'm ready to make that commitment. But she doesn't know about you, she's not going to get hurt by your presence…"

Again, Angela cut him off:

"I know that you're good at finding excuses for morally gray decisions, but you really don't need to lecture me on that. And Noah; as much as I approve of this marriage, that doesn't mean that I want to witness it. I've already dreamed it, and that's quite enough, thank you."

Angela hang up and with an irritated sigh, she sank down on the living room couch.

As she began to relax against the cushions, she remembered something she hadn't thought about in a very long time.

That couch had been the place where she kissed young Noah Bennet for the first time. The memory made her smile, after all; not only had it been a very good kiss, but she had also had a lot of fun while she brought him to the point of taking her in his arms.

Yes, she had done it to amuse herself, nothing more. Noah Bennet was attractive; young, but those horn-rimmed glasses made him look older, and precociously serious. And had they been sunglasses, he could maybe have been able to hide his glances behind them. But as they were not, she noticed that he looked at her.

She pretended not to notice, of course. She looked at him as if her attitude toward him was strictly professional, as expected, but sometimes she confused him with a quick smirk. She imagined what he must be thinking: 'Does she smile at me because she likes me, or is she just mocking me?' She didn't want him to be too sure.

Sometimes, Noah stuttered when he spoke to her. But what she liked about it was not the fact that he was so enamoured with her that she made him nervous just by looking at him, but that he concealed it so well. He tried, he really did. There was nothing to reveal him, except a small shiver in his voice, and his eyes.

But he looked away so quickly; he didn't want her to notice the way he looked at her. He was obviously trying to be discrete, and he didn't actively pursue her.

Which is why she thought that she might want him… just a little bit of him…

And Angela admitted to herself that it was probably not a good idea to seduce a young man who was working for the Company, but the combination of Noah's calm façade and the hunger she could glimpse behind it made her, in fact, want him.

So, she used a trick she had picked up in a movie; when she knew that Arthur wouldn't be home, she asked, no, more like ordered, Noah to drive her home, and poured him a drink. The young man responded according to the script, and although she was sure that some of it was an act – like when he was close to saying 'Mrs. Petrelli, are you trying to seduce me?' – that only meant that he liked to play that game. But he was undoubtedly nervous, scared even, and he was rambling when she talked to him about the wine they were drinking and about the Company. She talked to him softly, calmly, and then, finally, she kissed him.

Noah was trembling with desire, and his lips and his hands were pressed against her, and he was an even better kisser than what she had imagined. His lips were full of promises of even greater pleasure, and when she was still debating with herself whether she should allow herself to take all that she wanted from him, or if she'd better end the game right there and then without having felt the whole pressure of his body against hers, the telephone decided for her.

Angela had seen too much to believe in chances, coincidences.

She told him that he had to leave, and she knew that he understood that there could be no more such kisses. The young agent didn't question her decisions; her commands.

At least, that's what she thought. After that too short moment in her home, they both pretended that it hadn't happened, and if Noah was still looking at her, he did it even more discretely than before. They didn't even see each other that often, as he was in Odessa.

But once when he was in New York, she decided that she wanted to taste those young, eager lips once more, and she took him to lunch, and then they shared a taxi.

I am not a woman who is making out in taxis, Angela told herself, this is probably an even worse idea than it was the first time.

She turned her head and looked at him, she leaned just a little bit closer, and his lips met hers in an explosive kiss, and they kissed as if they had no intention of ever stopping.

Angela was home alone, but as much as she wanted to ask him in, she didn't. When the taxi stopped, she just freed herself from his embrace – not that it was easy to let go of him – and walked out of the car. She didn't turn around to look at him.

But later that night, she came close to changing her mind. Why hadn't she let him follow her inside? Why didn't she take him to her bed? The young man wanted her, and what harm would it have done? Would it have done any harm?

She couldn't sleep.

"I'm alone", she said when she called him.

"Me too", he said in his hotel room. "It's boring if you ask me…"

"There are plenty of taxis in this town."

Am I really doing this, she thought, with her heart pounding.

"I know. You left me in one of them earlier today." Noah paused. "But I could… find another one and then… come to you, if you want me to?"

"Yes", she said, "but don't. Don't come."

"Then why did you call me, Angela?"

"Good night, Noah".

Angela hang up. She wasn't always that scrupulous. She didn't understand why she was so scrupulous about Noah Bennet.

But there was that dream. Angela had been dreaming that Noah was kissing a girl – tall, with blonde curly hair – and they seemed to be really into each other. Angela didn't know if the girl was a part of Noah's life or not, but she knew that she was going to be a part of it and that, for some reason, was why she didn't let herself sleep with him.

But Angela could not sleep. Hearing his voice, if only for such a short time, and remembering that dream didn't make her longing for his body go away. If anything, the reverse.

She tried to curl up in bed, but yielded soon enough to the urge and let her own hands try to fool her and lost herself in fantasies.

She didn't see Noah Bennet in person until a year later, and the reasons were strictly professional. That is, until he called her one night and asked her to have lunch with him the following day, because he needed to tell her something.

What he told her was that he was planning to get engaged to his girlfriend; that is, is she said yes when he asked her to marry him.

"Of course she's going to say yes, Noah", Angela said, "she loves you very much."

Noah Bennet looked at her as if he wanted to apologize, as if he was afraid to hurt her.

"Don't look at me like that", Angela said, "you're being ridiculous. Come on now, tell me her name."

"Sandra", he said, "her name is Sandra Butler."

Angela nodded, and told him that she wasn't surprised to hear about their relationship. She told him that she knew that they were going to get married because she had seen it in a dream. She talked to him as if he was already married; as if it was a decision already settled for him by the Company board, and not a private commitment.

And of course, it could be looked upon that way. There is no better cover than a perfect, happy family.

"She's sweet and fun, easy-going", Noah said, "and she… she really loves dogs. It's good that she has an interest in something that's more than just a hobby… don't you think?"

"Absolutely", she said firmly. "But now, young man, I need to be somewhere…"

Angela enjoyed taking long lunches, but this one had been very quick. They left the restaurant together, and walked in friendly silence for a little while, until Noah asked her if she wanted to share a taxi.

In his eyes, she could see a glimpse of that same hidden hungry fire that had been one of the first things she noticed about him.

"No, Noah, not this time", she said, and raised her hand to his cheek in what she hoped could be interpreted as a tender maternal gesture.

But he quickly captured her hand, pulled her close, and bent his head down to kiss her.

Just for a few seconds, she softened against his body, but it was a very quick kiss; they both let go, and without another word they walked away in opposite directions and were soon hidden in the busy crowd of people that swarmed the street.

***

The ceremony was over. The minister had said all his prayers, Mr. Bennet had kissed Mrs. Bennet, the organ had played one last hymn, and the congregation had left the church.

Only the woman in the corner was still there, looking at the burning candles on the altar.

Sandra Bennet's, née Butler, face had been glowing with happiness, so beautiful in her wedding dress.

Of course, Angela Petrelli said to herself, thinking back on the white dress she wore once in 1964, the girl does look like a sumptuous cream cake, but that is the fashion of today.

She had never spoken to the bride, and she didn't intend to speak to her. That was not why she was there.

She had seen that also Noah looked happy. He didn't seem to notice her when he was walking down the aisle with his bride toward the entrance, and if she thought about her at all, he must simply have thought that she kept her word and stayed at home.

Angela looked at the burning candles and tried to sort out her feelings, but she couldn't. She felt both content, relieved, and a little appalled, as she always did when she saw a precognition be carried into effect, but she also felt vaguely numb.

When she didn't hear any sounds from outside, and thus was sure that everyone had left for the party that according to the invitation was supposed to follow on the ceremony, she left the church, and no one saw her.


	3. Chapter 3: Keep Her Safe

**Chapter 3: **** Keep Her Safe**

**Rating****:** K+**  
Characters/Pairing****:** Angela Petrelli, Claire Bennet, Noah Bennet, Jackie, the Haitian (Angela/Noah if you squint)**  
Summary:** Umm… "Save the cheerleader"? But Claire is not a cheerleader yet; in this fic, she's only eight years old, and Angela has a dream…**  
Prompt:** Mystic table, #3 Innocence at 10iloveyou, Live Journal

***

_The two blonde girls are swinging in the swings on the playground. Sun shining. People everywhere. Teenage boys voices: "What time is it? – Two minutes pas two! – Shit, mom is gonna kill us if we miss the bus!" Laughing voices. The girls are swinging higher and higher, faster and faster. Then, without warning, the chain breaks from one of the swings. It takes just a second. The girl is flying through the air with a shrill scream. People running, girl immobile on the ground. Blood, from her head. Her leg – shining white through red flesh. __"Call an ambulance!"_ No. Don't call. _Ambulance arrives. Then, hospital. The mother is talking about concussion, plaster, broken spine – what if she'll never walk again? The father is paler than a sheet of paper, sweating, his eyes desperate. "Children heals easily…", he murmurs._ Yes, especially this child. _Doctors arrive. "She was unconscious, bleeding from her head, needed stitches, her leg was broken…"_ Was _broken? Everything spins faster. "Can't explain, a mystery, some people want to ask you some questions about her, do you mind? The girl is not hurt. We want to ask you about her."_ No. it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

_As long as I'm still dreaming, it has__ not happened yet._

***

Two blonde girls are running toward the swings, racing. It's a competition, but just for fun – right?

Suddenly, the smaller one of the two stops.

"Hey, Claire, who's that?"

The other one turns around, but doesn't look to closely.

"You stopped", she says, "that means I won."

"It does not! I'm faster than you anyway. The lady's looking at us. Do you know her?"

Claire shakes her head, but then the unknown woman at the gate waves and smiles. She waves twice. A young black man is standing by her side, two steps behind her.

"It looks like she wants to say something", Claire says and starts walking, somewhat hesitatingly, toward the dark haired woman and her companion.

The other girl doesn't follow.

"We're not supposed to talk to strangers!"

Claire sighs and talks to her friend over her shoulder:

"But what if it's important? And what could they do anyway? Kidnap us right in front of your mom? She's sitting on a bench over there…"

The other girl starts walking, and the two girls reach the entrance of the playground, where the woman smiles warmly at them.

"Hello, Claire. I'm Angela, and this is a friend of mine. We work with your dad, and we're here to pick you up."

"No you're not!" Claire immediately replies, "I'm supposed to stay here until four o'clock when my _dad_ is coming to pick me up."

"I know, sweetheart. And you're a good girl; it's very wise of you to be suspicious. But you see, your dad has changed his plans for today. We're all going to have ice-cream. Look, there he is, do you see him?"

Yes, the woman who said her name was Angela is right; Claire can see her dad coming from the parking lot, and when he's close enough for her to see a well-known smile on his face, she relaxes.

"I love ice-cream," she says, "cool. Bye Jackie, see you tomorrow."

Jackie looked annoyed.

"I'm gonna tell my mom that I want ice-cream, too. A big one."

"You do that, Jackie", Angela says, "and don't go anywhere near those swings. They are not safe."

The girls turned around and looked at the set of swings that nobody was using at the moment. Then a boy rushed toward them, and with a giant leap he landed on one of the swings – and the chains broke immediately. But as the boy didn't have any speed yet, the fall wasn't serious and he didn't seem to get hurt.

Jackie and Claire looked wide-eyed at the stranger.

"Wow", Jackie said, "did you know that just by looking at it?"

"Yes", Angela replied.

"Hi Claire-bear", said Noah Bennet as he came closer, "I see you've met Angela already."

Jackie's mother had noticed the sudden assembly of people at the gate, and came to ask what was going on. Noah explained that an old friend had unexpectedly come to visit, and that's why he decided to pick up Claire early.

With her father's hand in hers, surrounded by Angela and her friend, Claire walked to the car. During the ride and when they were eating their ice-cream, Claire answered the unfamiliar lady's questions about her school, her friends, her younger brother Lyle. She talked about her dance classes after school, and said that she wanted to become a cheerleader when she was older, just like Jackie's sister.

"I'm sure you'll be a wonderful cheerleader one day", Angela smiled, and the eight-year-old beamed with joy.

The lady was nice, she thought; she seemed interested and listened to everything she said. Claire thought about how she was going to tell her mom about dad's friends later, but somehow, when she got home, Claire had forgotten all about the woman called Angela. She didn't even remember the ice-cream.

***

Noah Bennet glanced at the Haitian who was turning his back on them, looking at something – or so it seemed – at the other end of the street. He didn't seem to listen to or even care about the two persons in his company.

"Angela", Noah said, "he took everything, didn't he? Claire won't remember this."

Angela nodded, but looked a little sad. When Noah asked her why she was there, she said that she was just passing by.

"Yeah, right. It's not like you've got a plan with everything you do…"

Angela looked almost surprised at the younger Company employee.

"What's the matter, Noah?"

"Nothing", he murmured and fixed her with his determined eyes, "I just wish I knew what your plans are."

Angela sniffed at his words.

"No. Believe me; you don't. And you should be glad that you don't need to know. Your job is to keep Claire safe, and to do what you're told. That's all, and I trust you don't have a problem with that."

Noah knew that she was right; he was not supposed to question the orders he was given. But he didn't question the orders, really, or Angela Petrelli's authority nor her unwillingness to give him any details. It was something else he wanted from her and she knew it; he was certain of it.

"I know that I'm supposed to keep Claire safe", he said, "I carried her out of a fire when she was a baby, before I knew her and before I knew that I would ever know her. And she's my daughter now. If I did that then, don't you see that there is nothing I wouldn't do for her now?"

"Yes", Angela admitted, but Noah wasn't sure that he believed her.

"So why did you come, why didn't you just call me, and I could have picked her up at the playground myself."

Angela pressed her lips together.

"I wanted to see the child", she said; calm as if she was talking about a specially designed piece of clothing. "I haven't seen her since she was a baby, and I was curious."

"And now you've seen her. Why, did you think I don't take care of her good enough?"

"I never said that. That's not what this is about."

Noah didn't seem to notice the shiver in Angela's voice and the longing behind it. He was getting upset. Noah mostly stayed calm and focused at least on the surface, especially on the rare occasions he got a chance to see Angela, but this was about Claire.

"What am I supposed to do, then?" he said. "She's a little girl, not a piece of gold in a safe. She has to be allowed to do things, I can't watch her every step."

"Of course not." Angela made her voice sharp to cut through Noah's anger. "I know perfectly well that Claire is a little girl, and she is supposed to have a normal, happy childhood with you and your family, that's the point of all this. But watch her as closely as you can, Noah."

Noah looked confused for a moment, as if he suddenly forgot what they were talking about. All he knew was that Angela took one small step away from him, as if to say that the discussion was over.

"Are you leaving now?"

"Of course", she said; seemingly surprised at his question.

"Why can't you stay?" he blurted out with a glimpse of that boyish eagerness Angela thought he had gotten over. "Why don't you stay, why are we never alone?"

"We wouldn't be alone if I stayed because I've got company", Angela pointed out, but not without kindness, "and you've got a family, remember?"

Noah knew that he really shouldn't say things like that to Angela Petrelli, she had made that clear to him years ago, but now he couldn't stop.

"Yeah, but what if we went somewhere else", he suggested, "it wouldn't be a problem; you know I travel a lot…"

"Don't be ridiculous", Angela interrupted, "what in the world has gotten into you?"

Angela's words lacked conviction; at least, that was what Noah tried to believe.

"You know the answer to that. That's why we're never alone anymore, because you're afraid of what might hap – "

"That's enough!"

This time, it was hard to doubt Angela's conviction.

Noah met her steady gaze, and he just couldn't tell from the look in her eyes what she was thinking.

"I thought that you would understand", Angela said, "for Claire's sake. But it's obvious that you don't. Noah… I didn't want to do this, but now it think it's for the best if you forget that I was here today."

So the Haitian had been listening after all. He turned around, and walked towards them; silently, unhesitatingly, and without emotion in his face, as if Noah was nothing but a piece of garbage he had to remove from his lady's sight.

"No, Angela, why do you… Angela, I don't want to forget that I saw you today."

But Angela turned around, and walked away.

She stopped, and then turned to look at the two men over her shoulder.

"Keep Claire safe, remember! That's the important thing."


	4. Chapter 4: Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

**Chapter 4:**** Where Do Broken Hearts Go?**

**Rating:** M**  
Characters/Pairing:** Angela Petrelli/Noah Bennet (some references to past Angela/Elle because I can't resist a hint of femslash)**  
Summary:** Noah Bennet is in a very gloomy mood this evening, feeling very lonely. So does Angela Petrelli. So why not spend the rest of the night together, like they've always wanted but never done before…**  
Spoilers/Warnings:** No spoilers; post-season 3, but kind of vague, as I haven't watched anything of season 4 yet/Sexual situations**  
Word count:** 6 434**  
Note:** This is chapter is based on a few ideas by Firstlady1408, who wanted: "longer Angela/Noah fic" and "I would love to see Angela let go just once and allow herself to feel, really feel... ", and this prompt: Both had crappy dinners at home, and "what if they both walked out on their families and came across each other..." (Mixed Angela's and Noah's point of view.)

***

Noah Bennet walks down the streets of New York in a haphazard manner on a cloudy and cold evening, thinking about everything he once had and then lost. Strange how that could happen, when he for years had been going home to his family every day like a good boy, and they asked him how his day was, and very often did he have to lie to them and they didn't know it. Things did for a while seem to be better when the lies stopped. But in fact, everything started to fall apart then – he can see that now, when time has passed – and became progressively worse from there.

Poor Sandra, Noah thinks like a mantra, poor dear Sandra; how I have wronged her!

When he decided to get married, everybody seemed to approve of it. Even Angela Petrelli. There is no better cover for a Company man than a perfect, happy family, a somewhat boring but important job (because after all, everyone needs paper, but it's neither hot nor cool), and horn-rimmed glasses. And yet, for him, it had been more than a cover – he had tried, he had really tried so hard to make it all work.

But look what it all boiled down to, eventually. Bye, bye, Primatech Papers, bye, bye happy family. Cover blown.

Not that I'm bitter, Noah says to himself, and most of all not toward the Company. Or maybe I am. I lived for it, and they knew it. But after all, they gave me Claire…

And there he stops himself. Had I known it would hurt this much, be this difficult, to be a father, I would have refused when they wanted to give her to me, he thinks.

But that is useless thinking. Why do I keep having these useless thoughts? Noah asks himself while he stops and stares at his reflection in the window of a shop. I look like a ghost, he thinks, I have a very ghostly feeling right now. I have been in this city before, so many times. So many things have happened here. I have walked up and down these streets in search of people. I have found people. Even Claire has been here. The city almost exploded. I have been in bars, in hotel rooms. In taxis. Sometimes with Suresh. And with Angela. The first time we shared a taxi, we kissed. Another time, twenty years later… she gave me her umbrella…

Noah realizes that he is once again thinking in circles, drowning in memories. He knows that seeing himself as a ghost is hardly constructive, and isn't he normally a man who lands safely on his own two feet…

As Noah turns away from the shop window and his gloomy reflection, he sees a person further down the street, walking in his direction. A woman. The silhouette is very straight; she is walking slowly but steadily, dressed in a long black coat.

Is she only a production of my mind, is having hallucinations the next step of this ghostly mood I've thrown myself in?

"Angela", he says hesitatingly as she approaches him, because he gets a feeling that the woman might actually walk right through him as if she's made of air, or smoke or fog…

She flinches, and looks up, as if waken up from a dream.

"Oh, Noah, I didn't see you. Hello."

When she is standing still right in front of him while cars are passing by, he gets a feeling that she is materializing. Smoke and fog becomes flesh and blood; she is not a ghost produced by his tired brain, she is real.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you, but why are you out walking like this? Has something happened?"

"Why do you assume that something has happened just because I'm walking?"

"I don't know. You looked so… far away. Before you noticed me. What about your family; are they all right?"

"My family?" Angela rises an eyebrow. "Ha! Don't even get me started…"

Noah nods sympathetically.

"I hear you; I'll say no more… " He nods toward the other side of the street. "Hey, there's a bar over there. If you want to take a drink…"

"Yes, why not? It's not like I've got anything better to do – and neither have you, as it seems."

As they are crossing the street, Angela seems more like herself than a ghost, walking quickly and half a step in front of him, taking the lead.

***

The bar Noah had spotted is not exactly the kind of place Angela Petrelli would have chosen for herself on any other day. But for now, she decides, any place will do. Any place that is not my home or the street. At least it's warm in here.

They order whiskey, they sit down. The bar is small but not crowded; two small groups of elderly men are sitting in silence a few tables apart from them. Two younger men and an older woman are sitting on the high chairs at the counter, nagging with the bartender about something Angela can't hear, because a stereo somewhere is playing Whitney Houston songs very loudly.

"So" , Angela says, "how are you, Noah? I haven't seen you in a while."

"I know", he replies, "I've been… I've not been doing much. How about you?"

Angela shrugs her shoulders, dreading the small talk that always seems so empty and insignificant.

"Oh, you know… the usual situation…"

Noah looks at her with warmth in his eyes. She is suddenly reminded of the fact that this is a man who actually, genuinely, cares about her.

Then why can't she talk to him? She knows that she could confide in him; that wouldn't be a bad thing to do. She could tell him how she felt earlier that evening: that she just had to get out of the house. There was such a heavy pressure on her; she needed air, she needed to get away. She reminded herself everyday of the fact that she was istrong/i, that she knew what she was doing, and that the decisions she had made had been the only possible ones, and therefore the right ones.

"This thing with… Nathan", she admitted reluctantly, "it is very difficult sometimes."

"Why?" says Noah sharply, immediately looking very tense, "what has happened?"

Angela sighs and shakes her head.

"Nothing has happened. At least not yet… and maybe nothing will happen. Let's hope it doesn't. But I mean, just _knowing_…"

"Really? I thought that you didn't think like that. I certainly do, but it was your choice… to keep _Nathan_, no matter what. Your son…"

Where is that warmth in Noah that she saw a moment ago now? Angela wishes that she had kept her mouth closed.

"I know!" she snaps. "I know that it was my choice, and I don't regret it because everything is going just fine. But that doesn't mean that it isn't hard for me. Do you really think that I don't know the truth; that I have forgotten?"

"No, Angela, I don't think that."

Noah reaches out his hand across the table and touches hers. She lets him take her hand, and suddenly the unexpected touch – probably because it was so long ago since she touched anyone – brings tears to her eyes; she can feel the heat of them filling her eyes. She can only hope that she can control them so that he doesn't see them.

"I'm sorry", he says. "Angela, don't be upset… of course it must be very difficult for you."

"He is there", Angela says silently, "and yet he's not. Sometimes I do forget it. I listen for a strange tone in his voice, but I can't hear it. Everything is fine. But, sometimes I think about Heidi, and I feel a little… guilt."

"Heidi, why?"

"I don't know. They haven't been together for a long time, after all. But they were married. Photos of her are still in the house… and she probably has photos of us, too; of Nathan… for the boy's sake. How would she feel…"

Angela interrupts herself; her voice is becoming unsteady. She doesn't know why she is talking like this. But it's the truth. She misses Heidi; she has always liked that warm and intelligent woman – more than she ever showed, and possibly even more than what Nathan seemed to like her sometimes. But she can't call her – that is impossible. She can't call her and say, yes, everything is just fine with the Petrellis.

"Angela, I had no idea that you feels like this…"

"The situation is not normal." Angela sighs. "But what ever _is_ normal, anyway? I'm used to it. I can handle it. I can't talk to anyone about it."

"Yes, you can. You can talk to me. Just like this. Please, talk to me, Angela."

Noah is still holding her hand; his hand is warm. Behind his glasses is that look in his eyes that says 'I care', and before Angela can think twice about it, a thought falls out of her mouth:

"I have missed you very much."

Noah's eyes are shifty, as if he finds it hard to believe her; he looks at his empty glass as if he has forgotten when he emptied it, and he squeezes her hand more tightly.

"I have always wanted to be a good friend to you. No. I have wanted more; you know that… but it is true that I always want to be there for you."

Angela doesn't answer; can't think of what to say. Yes, she knows that Noah once wanted more from her. She doesn't know when it stopped – it doesn't matter. She knows that she wanted him, too – then, when he was young and ambitious… and she said no to him. She said no, even when she knew that he wouldn't have married Sandra Butler if she only had said one word that encouraged him. But she didn't, because she knew that some things had to happen; it is useless to cry over things that dreams show – some things are changeable, but most things are not. She never told him how much that pained her.

And now, she tells herself, now we are friends.

They look at each other without saying anything.

Then Noah gets up to get them more whiskey, and when she takes the new glass from him, she feels their fingers brush lightly against each other.

Never anything more than that, she muses, never more than the lightest touch… And then she has to remind herself again that this, too, has been her decision and hers alone; to refrain from Noah Bennet.

The stereo is still going with that Whitney Houston theme, and now she's singing about broken hearts.

"It seems like I'm questioning all my decisions tonight", she muses aloud.

A few more people has entered the shabby little place; a young woman with too much makeup around her big eyes, and heels too high for her to walk steadily on, and a man who seems to be at least twice her age. She will probably, Angela thinks, drink too much as well.

"What?" Noah says. "Surely not _all_ of them. You're a wise woman, in general…"

Angela doesn't want to talk about whether she's wise or not; she doesn't want him to flatter her or feel sorry for her. She finishes her drink and frowns.

"What an awful, sad little place. Can you believe it?"

"Yeah, why not? Where else do we belong on a day like this?"

Noah looks gloomy again, just like he did when she ran in to him out on the street. She realizes that he, too, is feeling miserable because of everything that has happened. He has lost a lot, too. And this place – is it a place for two old friends who need to feel a little better about themselves?

"Seriously; do we belong in here? The walls are greasy… there's dust on the lamps… this whiskey is hardly what the bartender claims it to be…"

"Angela, you're right." Noah puts his glass down. "You're absolutely right. So, let's go somewhere else and have dinner."

"I thought you'd never ask."

Angela smiles, and Noah too – for the first time.

"Did I? I thought it was your idea to leave this place…"

"Oh, shut up and come on…"

***

Angela Petrelli is still leading the way. Noah doesn't mind. He knows that it hasn't always seemed that way, but he will go wherever she tells him to, when it really matters. Now, of course, it is not a matter of life and death, it's only about finding a decent place to eat, a place that is not beneath the standards of this woman.

And on second thought, maybe that really is important. Yes, he concludes, it is important – they are going to have dinner together, almost like a date…

No, come on, he scolds himself, I'm beginning to sound like a schoolboy. Why does she always have that effect on me, still; after all these years? God, I hope she doesn't know that! She used to know it…

They are crossing a street, after getting out of a taxi. The ride had been short; Noah had barely had time to start wondering if Angela too remembered the time they kissed in a taxi, and if it was a good memory for her, when the taxi stopped at the address she had demanded.

They have crossed the street, and Noah sees the restaurant Angela is heading for.

"But", he says, "are you sure that this place… I mean, we haven't made a reservation…"

Angela looks at him as if he had said something stupid.

"No, of course not."

Inside, Noah realizes that Angela Petrelli can get a table anywhere. She just have to be there; glide in and say "Good evening" with just a hint of a smile, like some kind of royalty – with him like a court-jester at her side; because although Noah too is used to move around in all kinds of surroundings and this restaurant is after all nothing out of the ordinary, he seems to be a little beside himself at the moment.

As if he hasn't spent most of his adult life watching Angela be awe-inspiring; that's normal, and he is so used to her that he hardly even notices anymore…

But now, as he follows her to the table they are shown to, he notices everything he has never really forgotten. The way she moves – with confidence and elegance – her incredibly well-shaped legs in black shoes with high heels – her dark hair and the curve of her waist and her hips…

As he sits down at the table with a white tablecloth and exclusive napkins, he is thankful for the menu which allows him to collect himself and hide his eyes from her for a moment.

"Isn't this much better?"

Angela is smiling, looking very pleased, and relaxed. The weary woman from the sleazy bar is gone as if she never existed, and so is the woman made of smoke and fog from the street. Angela is smiling radiantly. The bright lights of the room are reflecting in the silver cutlery, in the glasses, the chandeliers and in her eyes.

They order their food, and their wine. Noah lets her order the wine for both of them – not because he is completely ignorant, but because he feels transported back in time; the time when he was ignorant of such things, and Angela offered him a glass of wine in her house the night when they kissed for the first time.

No, he tries to stop himself, what's wrong with me – am I going to spend this entire night remembering every time we kissed – not that it was many times – I shouldn't think about it. It was long ago, and if she ever felt anything for me, she must have been over it for ages…

So, what are they going to talk about when they drink their wine? Not 'old times'; not the Company, not their children, or so-called children, not about the fact that they have never had dinner together like this before…

Angela pats lightly at the tablecloth.

"You know", she says, "I was in Paris once with Kaito Nakamura. It was long ago, of course. We were in a restaurant much like this one… but their table linens were not of this quality… and their wine was not this good…"

So they were going to talk about old times after all?

"I haven't tasted a wine this good in ages", Noah says, "not, in fact, since that one glass I drank one night at your place… do you remember?"

"Yes Noah, I remember."

Angela smiles at him, almost sweetly, and now he knows that she doesn't mind that he is thinking about it; about them. Angela smiles, and in her eyes he sees something – that glimpse of fire; a little dangerous but also alluring… And Noah realizes two things: he doesn't even remember the last time he saw that look in Angela's eyes, and nothing is really that dangerous anymore; not as it was then, anyway.

And when they get their food and start eating it, they talk about what they eat, and then they find other topics. There are things to talk about, Noah realizes, that don't bring back bad memories or unpleasant thoughts to either of them. There is a whole world of other things.

How long can such a good time last? Only until midnight – and what will happen then? He will go back to his lonely home, and she will go back to her place… and every step she takes away from him will bring her closer to that man who is not what he seems to be, who is a monster, who is…

"Noah?"

Angela's voice brings him back from that dark place his thoughts were about to bring him to, and he is thankful for the interruption. It is not midnight yet. Angela is still there. Noah tells himself not to waste even a minute of her presence.

Their food is gone, but they are reluctant to leave; they linger at the table, making the last drops of wine in their glasses last as long as they can.

But Angela decides that it is time to leave… so they leave. As they are walking side by side out of the restaurant, Noah asks her if they are going to share a taxi.

Angela doesn't waste any words.

"Yes", is all she says, and she doesn't look at him; as if she knows that his heart, which he has kept under control during the whole dinner, is beginning to race.

Not that it has to mean anything that they are getting into a car together – Angela hasn't said one word that has given him the impression that she wants to go anywhere with him… But Noah knows, with more conviction than what he has felt in a very long time, that there is still a chance that the evening hasn't ended yet. He doesn't want it to end.

This shouldn't even be possible, he thinks for the umpteenth time, how is it possible that I despite my long marriage have never been truly able to get over Angela Petrelli? Was my perfect, happy family not only a cover for my true line of work; was it a cover for my broken heart? It is true that deep inside of me, I thought of every assignment from the Company as something I did _for her_. It wasn't just because it was my job. Sometimes I felt like a little boy who is collecting gold stars from his teacher. And perhaps a smile and an approving nod of her head. Sometimes I wished it wasn't so, and admittedly, there were long periods of time when I truly believed that I was finally over her. But I did get a gold star once in a while. A nod of her head, a hint of an approving smile.

And the rest – the attraction that I once thought she felt towards me – was it just a game? Or even something I dreamed? A dream to keep me warm on a lonely assignment when my family was too far away?

When Angela is about to open the door of the car, Noah puts a hand on her arm, and she pauses and looks at him as he a little harshly whispers one word:

"Please."

Angela nods, just once, and opens the door and gets in, without saying anything.

***

Angela does not hear which address Noah gives the driver; she doesn't listen. She is occupied with wondering whether she is crazy, or if she is actually doing something sane.

I am in a taxi with Noah Bennet, she muses, on my way to I don't know what place, but surely a room with a bed. As if we are young again… as if we are getting a second chance.

No, she corrects herself, we are not getting a second chance, we are taking it – but why?

Angela looks at the man who is sitting next to her; she knows him so well, his face is so familiar. Yes, it has been many years since the last time she touched his face, but the palm of her hands remember. The contours of his jaw, his chin, his lips, his nose are still the same. His short hair – but not too short for her to run her fingers through it – and those glasses. She wonders if he is taking them off when he is making love.

That, she is soon to find out – that thought makes her straighten her back and look away, because the air in there is getting heavier and warmer and harder to breathe.

Then she looks at him again, because she feels like she has to… as if she's losing control of her actions, her will. Her power. She is not used to this, to losing her power in the presence of a man – nor of a woman, for that matter; Angela is always in control.

Noah meets her gaze, but he doesn't say anything and he doesn't try to kiss her, he doesn't even touch her at all. But she can see hope, dreams, and expectations in his eyes, and she is afraid that this adventure is a big mistake.

The taxi stops, but only for red light. Other cars are around them. The night is dark, artificially lit up, and they are riding side by side in a car which drives them toward something that is unknown.

What does he want from me? Angela wonders.

Maybe he is searching for comfort? She realizes that they've both lost almost everything but they've still got each other… or so it seems. They hadn't planned to get together; it just happened. She hadn't planned to show him her weariness, and she knew that he strongly disapproved of some of her actions – and yet she had allowed him to take her hand, and that had felt good.

And then he said _Please_.

Nothing more, but she knows what he meant. And he had never said 'please' to her like that before. Angela can hardly believe that he still wants her after all this time, but he does; that's obvious. But she is afraid that it is mostly because of some kind of nostalgia, a dream that never really died. Even now, when they are both older, he wants her, and she thinks that it is because they have never really done anything, and they will both be disappointed when the excitement turns to unmagical reality.

But, why the hell not? Why should they not go with the flow, go wherever this unplanned night wanted to take them?

Angela has decided; and she knows that she probably made that decision hours ago, during the taxi ride to the restaurant.

And now, they are there. Noah lives there; he unlocks the door, opens it, lets her in. They still haven't spoken a word, but as it seems both impossible and unnecessary, she doesn't even try. She just goes with him, and she expects him to instantly grab her hard and eat her mouth with the hunger that has been building up since 20 years, it will be a quick explosion in the dark; maybe up against the wall…

But no; Noah looks at her intensely for a moment; they are both bathing in the street light that comes in from the big window in his bedroom, and then he kisses her very softly.

***

The soft pressure of Angela's lips against his makes Noah tremble.

She puts her arms gently around him, as if to keep him standing, and he touches her face very slowly. They have never kissed like that before

Their old kisses were secret, stolen, too short-lived. Now, he feels a need to proceed with caution, because if either of them speaks one word or moves too quickly, the violent force of his desire will be too much, will destroy them both, as if the possibility of .

And Angela melts into him as if this long kiss is something she has been waiting for a long time, and now when she finally gets it, she wants it to last forever.

He holds her a little tighter, and she responds by pressing her lips against his a little harder, intensifying the movements of her tongue.

Slowly, her hands find their way under his clothes and her hands are on his back, making him groan, almost faint because the fire in his body is invading his brain. He makes her walk, with his mouth hungrily locked on hers, toward the bed, and she follows his lead while she is stepping out of her shoes and trying to take her red jacket off.

When she falls down on the bed, the contact between their bodies is momentarily broken, and that clears Noah's brain a little – if only very little – from the fire.

No, he does not want to devour her like someone who is starving; although he doesn't think she'd mind a lot, considering how long time they've been waiting, judging from the way she is starting to unbutton her blouse. Yes, he has been starving for so long, starving for her body… but that doesn't mean that he has to be voracious like a teenager. He is no longer the polite and ambitious boy who secretly wishes to be seduced by an older woman. He is simply a man who wants to make love to the woman he has been in love with for more than 20 years.

Such is Noah's intention. He captures Angela's busy hands, comes to her, kisses her passionately, and with trembling fingers he feels the lace of her bra, and her skin, and he can feel the hard pounding of her heart. Her face is so close to his, more beautiful than ever before, and there is desire in her dark eyes.

They are taking their time at first, exploring each other's bodies, but as more and more skin is exposed – to air, to kisses – their caresses become more and more eager, greedier and greedier, they are both voracious, rushing toward the final full expression of their lust like the water of a waterfall is rushing over the edge and down into a great river.

***

At first, Angela is not thinking. She is merely experiencing and feeling – exploding – and breathing. Then, when actual thoughts begin to stir in her head again and she meets Noah's eyes without the glass barrier, she realizes that she has never had sex half this good with a man before. She can't even begin to understand why she has denied herself this for all this time.

"Noah", she says – the first words she has spoken in a long time, and her voice is a little husky, "I must be crazy, but I don't want this to end."

"How could it end?" Noah smiles and touches her face with his fingertips. "It has been going on for ages, hasn't it? This is just the next phase."

"But is it possible...?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" He looks intensely at her, and she doesn't even know why she is asking. "Angela, you have always made the rules and I've been playing along… so, it's up to you. You know that I've always wanted this… you know that I don't want to let go of you now. I know that you've always thought first about the Company and your family. But does that matter so much anymore?"

"It doesn't", she admits with relief. "But it used matter, very much. And your family, and Claire… What would she think about the fact that her dad and her grandmother…"

"Oh, that." Noah shrugs his shoulders as if her objection – which isn't really an objection – is unimportant. "First of all, she's practically grown up now. And secondly, she wouldn't see it as half as bad as you make it sound like!"

"Well, maybe not…And you're right; she's grown up now. She grew up in a warm and safe home, just like we wanted her to. She can handle changes now, can't she?"

He smiles.

"Yes, I'm sure she can. So what are you afraid of?"

Noah kisses her softly between each word, making her want to stop talking – why on earth did she ever open her mouth to anything but kisses…

"Honestly", she says slowly, "I don't know. I'm not even sure that I am afraid of anything. It just seems so strange, the way that life has changed."

Noah nods; the smile disappears and he looks like he is going to say something serious.

"I know that is has changed, but isn't that why we finally…"

He pauses, and then he says, slowly:

"Angela… darling. I… I love you."

Angela closes her eyes, as if to escape him for a moment. Does he really know what he is talking about? She had known from the first times they met that he was attracted to her, and soon that he was in love with her. But then, she had always thought that even if his crush on her never disappeared, he eventually loved Sandra more. But maybe he didn't.

"Let's not talk", she says and opens her eyes, "think of the time."

"Why?" Noah looks puzzled. "Do you have to be somewhere?"

Angela leans over him and kisses him hungrily.

"No. No, I mean… we've lost so much time."

"We'll make up for it", Noah promises, as her hands, her hair, her lips are all over him like a wind that sweeps in everywhere and leaves no spot undiscovered, but not a cold wind, no; more like a storm of fire, and their bodies are meeting and melting in to each other like two waves that have travelled a long time on the open sea until they finally reach the shore.

With Noah's body pressed against hers, Angela does not only feel intense pleasure. Angela knows pleasure; she likes it (despite some people's assumption that she is an ice queen), both getting it and giving it – mostly to other women, if truth be told. But this, she knows, is more.

This is happiness.

***

Noah, dozing off under his soft covers because he feels so warm and relaxed, can hardly believe what is happening. When he closes his eyes, he even starts to wonder if it is not a dream that he actually has company in his single bed – because king-size bed as it is, it is after all a single bed. Until now, that is – what a miracle. Not only that he's got a woman in his bed, but that woman is Angela. That's got to be too good to be true.

"Noah?"

That's Angela's voice. Noah opens his eyes and look at her, and it's definitely true that she is there; naked, in his bed, by his side.

"Yeah?"

He smiles at her; it seems as if he will never be able to stop smiling at her – and she looks like she likes it when he smiles, because she does it too, and raises her eyebrows a little, looking questioningly at him.

"Surely, you're not going to sleep, are you?"

"Oh no", he assures her. "Only for one moment… to recharge my batteries."

"I don't need recharging", Angela asserts with her seducing voice. "I'm electric already."

Noah puts her arm around her and kisses her shoulder, surprised at how easy it is, how… natural. As if they belong together.

"Don't talk like that… you make me think about Elle."

"What about her? Did you have the hots for her?" Angela laughs. "And besides, you started the topic, with your batteries."

Noah laughs a little too; the idea that he could have wanted to be that girl's partner in any other way than as in partners on assignments, is just ridiculous.

"If anything", he explains, "I felt sorry for her – sometimes, in a paternal kind of way. I certainly did not 'have the hots' for her."

"I did", Angela confesses, looking a little defiant. "At least a little, there was this once… and when I come to think about it, she did some quite electrifying things with her tongue…"

"What, seriously; Elle? I thought she was straight."

At least it looked that way, Noah remembers, when she ran off with that repugnant son of a bitch –

And then he stops his thoughts, using all his inner force to do so, and concentrates on Angela's words.

"I don't know", she says flippantly, "she had some kind of crush on me, at least. It didn't last that long. Why do you sound surprised to hear that Elle was not completely straight, but not, it seems, that I am fully aware of that?"

Noah laughs; it is true that he's not shocked. Angela had a fling with Bob Bishop's daughter? Yeah, why not? Noah certainly never imagined her waiting for him in celibacy nor in complete fidelity to Arthur – they never seemed right together in his eyes, and he never believed that Arthur was the one who was standing in their way. Not until now is he truly beginning to understand this.

"I guess", he answers her question, "because you're so full of mysteries that nothing is unthinkable. Not that I've thought about it. I'm just saying… you are so much above everyone that… I mean, women are lovely, and why should you deny yourself any pleasure…"

"Exactly."

Noah starts to kiss his way down Angela's body, and after a few questioning, exploring moves, he asks:

"So, was she better than me, with her electrifying…"

"I didn't say that; don't be silly. I'm not going to tell you how go… good you are…"

"Oh, really, you're not..?"

She doesn't have to say anything, Noah thinks, her body speaks even if she keeps her mouth shut. Silence is good. It's perfect. On the other hand; there's nothing wrong with talking either…

"Hey", he says, and lifts his head to look at her face, "did Elle call you Sugar?"

"She most certainly did not!" Angela sounds shocked at the suggestion. "No one has ever called me that. Not in the last forty-five years at least."

"But then", he says and puts his tongue where he finds that it's making her gasp, "it's about time I start."

"Nonsense. What are you talking about?"

"Because you taste so sweet; didn't you know?"

"Well, I've never had complaints, but it's not like I've verified, Noah…"

"What, seriously? You've gone down on other women, but you don't know what you taste like?"

"You're the one who's not serious…"

He interrupts her by, faster than what seems to be likely for a man who needs to recharge his batteries, moving up from between her thighs to her mouth and kisses her with his very moist lips.

"So, what do you say..?"

"Mhm."

"Nothing else?"

"My modesty forbids me", she says coyly, but the way her hips move under his hand says something else. "By the way, not that it is my habit to throw compliments all around me, but have I ever told you that you're an excellent kisser?"

"No, you haven't, but this is a good time to start."

"I've thought so since the very first time…"

"The very first time… You were such a Mrs. Robinson."

"I know", she says, running her fingers up and down his spine, "and I enjoyed it. Except that I wasn't as available. I never knew I was going to take it seriously. Isn't that funny? That I didn't know; that I never dreamed anything about us."

"No", Noah says and kisses her softly, "I'm glad you didn't. It means the future hasn't decided anything for us. It means that we're free."

"Do you think so? Well, at least we're here now. But we're getting off topic. Kisses, tongue. That taste you claim to like…"

She didn't have to say it twice. Noah loved her lips with his. Then, once again he kissed his way down her body.

He touches her tenderly at first, almost solemnly. Sandra had never liked being licked very much, and when he found out, he stopped doing it, and that was all. But it happened, even during those times when he tried his very best to be a faithful husband, that he wondered what it would be like to go down on Angela Petrelli.

And now he knows.

"Sweet", he says, "sweeter than the shiniest candy…"

"Oh… really..?"

"Yes, or like a flood… of melted diamonds…"

"You're getting very poetic… oh, yes, right there…"

"You mean, like this?"

Yes; that was what she had meant, and both of them stopped talking.

***

Not very much later, Angela asks, a little breathlessly:

"How are your batteries doing?"

"Recharged."

Her hands travel down his body to verify the statement.

"Amazing – without any sleep at all!"

"I was wrong, naturally. Who needs to sleep when you're around."

"We'll sleep tomorrow night", she says, and when he thrusts into her she feels her fourth orgasm building up, "or maybe the night after that."

"Or the night after that one", Noah suggests with his eyes closed, and Angela throws her arms around him and moans.

"Will we really be together the night after tomorrow night?, Noah says."

Angela knows that it is not just because the heat of the moment that she gasps:

"Yes, we'll be together, I promise."


End file.
